Burning Inside
by Arsosah
Summary: It will always follow us, our past. The past that makes the lies fit into my mouth as they never have before. Sequel to On a Long Road.
1. The Fire

**Burning Inside**

**1. The Fire**

_There's a fire in a house down the street._

_Not even ten minutes ago, during the party we went to, my friend Eddie suddenly stepped up and put his elbow into my ribs, making me spill beer on the living room carpet._

_"C'mon," he said loudly into my ear, to be heard over the blasting music._

_I pulled away with his voice ringing in my head. "What?"_

_He took a step back and gestured at me, eagerly. "Just come!"_

_It was boring there anyway. I don't know why I agreed to come in the first place. So I put the glass down and followed him through the house, dodging people everywhere. I felt it as soon as he opened the front door - the sticking scent of something burning._

_I know I should have turned around once I did. I should have turned around and walked back inside, stayed where it was safe and maybe got something more to drink. Anything would have been better than going out there. But I kept my mouth shut, just put one foot in front of the other, followed him out onto the street, past a few houses and toward a crowd standing on the sidewalk. We stopped there, and then I saw it._

_The fire._

_I shiver. Maybe because I'm only wear jeans and t-shirt and the January night is cold; maybe because I'm watching flames lick the walls of a house, mercilessly destroying everything in their way. Maybe because it reminds me of too many things, wakes up too many memories._

_A woman screams. In my drunk mind, I don't hear her words, but maybe no one does. Maybe she's just screaming. Wordless. Desperate. A cop has his arm around her shoulders, but she stumbles down to her knees, buries her hands into her hair. She only wears a morning robe, and grey slippers on her feet. They appear to be too big for her._

_It disturbs me a lot, seeing it. All of it. Her pain. It makes me nauseous. It makes me want to throw up, right here where I stand. I manage to swallow it down._

_"What do you think happened?" Eddie says beside me, sounding sober and somber, staring at the scene. The eagerness is missing now; reality has caught up within him, too._

_A lit cigarette, dropped and forgotten on an old wooden floor flashes through my mind. I feel the goosebumps on my arms and cross them. Hold tight._

_"You think someone's still in there?"_

_I glance at him. The firetrucks' blue lights and the orange glow from the flames compete to color his face. I hear an ambulance on its way._

_"No," I say to him, determined, turning my gaze back to the fire. "No one's in there."_

_Because no one can be. It would be too late then._

_The smoke must be seen miles away, whirling up in the dark night sky. I remember the last time, when it was not too late yet, and suddenly I'm not on a street in Tulsa anymore. I have just jumped out of a car and run toward a church. I can almost hear the screams from the kids inside, feel Johnny push me out through the window. I feel light-headed, and I start to sway._

_"What's wrong?" Eddie grips my arm._

_"Nothin'." I push him away, roughly, turn around and empty my stomach into someone's bushes._

_An hour ago, the house behind my back was a living home, but tomorrow it will be a pile of ash. It only takes an instant for things to change, fatally. Just one mistake. Falling asleep in the vacant lot. Running away. Forgetting a cigarette. Writing a theme. Trusting someone._

_Fire is just like time. They both take and give nothing back, leaving only memories behind. Even if I have been back home for six months by now, out of foster care since September, nothing I have will stay with me forever. I won't be able to stop the time, to stop things from changing. It's going on and on and on. Just by breathing. Just by growing up._

_I will make mistakes._

_I wrap my arms around my aching stomach. I have the fire inside me, and I don't know how to put it out._

xXx

I lace my running shoes carefully. They are not brand new - Darry found them for me at a thrift store just before the season started - but the first owner can't have used them much. Enough to take the stiffness out of them, but too little to have damaged them in any way. Darry still apologized when he handed me the bag, something sad in his eyes. I know how he struggles with the bills, even if it was a year ago we were in court.

I stand up and jump a little on the spot. Coach has talked all week about this day, when college scouts will come to watch us practice. That we have to do our best, that this is what we have been working so hard for all through school. The others have, at least. I went back to track just last year, when I came back to Will Rogers. But I know I can keep up. I'm in good shape despite all the cigarettes I smoke.

Eddie walks up to me, just finished with the warm up too. His mouth is only a thin line as he drags his dark, unruly hair away of his face, breathing out slowly. I know he's nervous; his times have been bad this last month.

Coach Harris steps forward and claps his hands twice. "Come on now, boys! Don't let me down, you hear? Show'em what you've got. Run as if you have a hungry tiger after you!"

"Why not a lion?" Leo jokes, as they all start to move toward the running lanes, but only a few guys laugh.

"Shit," Eddie swears lowly, looking even more pale. "I ain't gonna make it. I'll be in so much trouble if I don't get a scholarship."

His words have made me worried before, but I don't think he's another Johnny. I have never been at Eddie's place, never seen his parents, but he has never shown any bruises either. If they hurt him, it can't be with their fists. At least I hope not, but I haven't dared to ask. Maybe I'm just afraid of the answer, what to do with it if it's the wrong one. Sometimes it's better not knowing.

Eddie walks up to the tracks, but I find myself hesitate, falling behind in my steps. I watch the others, bumping fists against shoulders, smiling nervously but determined, glancing up at the scouts sitting on the bleachers. I turn my gaze at them too - two middle-aged men, one in glasses. Here to decide who's future they might change.

I stop short at the thought. That is why they are here, isn't it? It's not just about today, it's about several years from now. Pick a guy, give him some money, send him away to a college out of state.

I feel sweat start to trickle. Out of state. They are not here in the behalf of some college in Oklahoma. They are here to split families, but I'm done with that. I'm done with letting strangers change my future. Especially those who think they are doing me a favor, like they know what I need better than I do.

But what am I supposed to do? Coach will notice right away if I don't do my best, he knows my skills. Just a few days ago, I almost caught up with Greg, the fastest boy in our team. I take a step forward, but then I stop again, wiping my forehead with my arm.

I can't do this. I can't run.

I sink down to the grass, breathing slowly. The sun is too hot today, shining hard on my skin. My neck and arms take the most of it, and I wish there was a shadow around here. I guess, maybe, I'm just not feeling too well. That could be it, why I feel so strange all of a sudden. I'm too warm.

"Take your place, Curtis." Harris is suddenly next to me, kicking my foot lightly. I have to squint my eyes as I look up at him. "C'mon, then. They ain't waitin' all day."

I lick my dry lips. "I ain't runnin' today, coach." I really try to sound casual, like it's no big deal. Hiding the fact I have bile up my throat, that my heart has something crazy going on in my chest. Harris looks baffled, though, his blue eyes widening some.

"You're not... ? Tell me you're just kiddin' me!"

"I can't. It's, um... my knee." I drag my right leg up to my chest, rubbing the knee slightly. "It's been buggin' me for a while. I don't want to make it worse."

"Your knee?"

"Yeah... I mean, it ain't nothin' serious or anythin', but -"

"Christ, Curtis, today of all days?"

I turn my gaze back to the runners, see Eddie watching us, something confused in his face. He makes a movement with his hand, like pointing beside him, but I shake my head slowly, mouthing a _No_. He frowns, but at least he stays where he is. I can't deal with both of them at the same time.

"I have friends doin' me a big favor today," Harris says seriously, drawing my attention back to him. "You think it's common for scouts to show up at a High school practice like this? I tell you what, it rarely happens. They're doin' it only because I asked them. Because they know I have some good guys on my team. Guys who can _make_ it. Big time."

I look away again, feeling guilty. "I know. But I won't look good stumblin' on the tracks, right? I mean, we'll have meets this year, they will come watchin' then too?"

"They might not look at you then, Curtis. Maybe they will already have their names. You're not the only one who's fast enough."

I rip at the grass under my hand. "If I run in first or second on the meets they'll notice me."

He sighs.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just don't want to hurt myself so I can't compete. I wouldn't sit here if it wasn't bad."

Harris grips the whistle around his neck. "I get that. Just wish you had told me sooner." His eyes narrow some. "You will have someone to look at it?"

"Yeah, my brother will book me a doctor's appointment."

He nods curtly, then turns around. Relieved, I watch him go. There is nothing wrong with my knee.

Eddie gets a great start, but as they come to the second round, he has fallen too far behind the lead. Silently I urge him to press more, to try harder. I know he has it in him - our whole junior year, he was in top five. I don't know what has happened during the summer, but I know the scouts have noticed his tiredness. I can tell they have already counted him out, their eyes not following him at all anymore.

I lean back on my elbows as a panting Eddie drops down next to me an hour later. Coach has really drilled them today. Long distance, short distances. I hear him swear under his breath.

"I screwed up," he says, his face in pain. "Shit."

"It wasn't that bad..."

Shaking his head, he makes a face. "Yeah it was. _Sophomores_ were faster than I am." He picks up the water bottle sitting between my feet and takes a swig, grimacing at the lukewarm liquid.

"Greg is faster than anyone," I say.

"I ain't only talkin' about Greg." He suddenly fixes his gaze on me, hard. "Why the hell didn't you run?"

I try to keep it light, with a shrug. "I didn't feel like it."

He looks even more grim. "That's so much bullshit. There are college scouts out there. Why?"

"I just didn't want to." I sit up, drag up my legs and place my elbows on them. "Don't nag about it, okay?" I suddenly snap.

"Fine. Whatever." He throws his hands up, surrenders immediately. "Sometimes I just don't understand you."

I stare down at the grass. He's not the only one.

xXx

I sit on the grass in our backyard, smoking the third cigarette in a row. I slowly rub my temple with my other hand, wishing I didn't feel so stressed about things. The pounding in my head is too familiar, and I close my eyes because of the pain.

I know why I didn't run today. I can pretend all I want that I don't, but it's not true. I have a reason. My stomach knots when I just think about college, about leaving home, about leaving Tulsa again. I know I don't have to do that - there is a college here too, and I can attend to that if I want to. My grades are high enough for me to pick. I just don't know what Darry will say about it. I know he wants better things for me; I am the one who is supposed to leave this neighborhood, to make something of my life.

I put the cigarette out by throwing it in a glass jar filled with water. The ember sizzles when it hits the surface, and I think of the fires again. The one in Windrixville, the one eight months ago, the one I sometimes picture I have inside me. I don't want it. I wish things could just be like they are.

I rise, walk through the back door, through the laundry room and hallway, into my own room at the end of it. The day after court, when the judge gave Darry custody back, I moved back in here. Told Soda I could sleep in my own bed.

That was not really true. Not then, not today, but I'm seventeen now. There are so many things I should be able to handle, and I think that if I just shut up about them, maybe I will one day. My brothers don't have to know how I feel before then.

I go to my bookshelf and take down a book, not caring which. I don't read so much for pleasure anymore, just to silence all the other thoughts in my head. Read about someone elses problems and forget my own for a while. Not that I have any problems. Life is fine and dandy, as Two-Bit would have said. I grimace for myself.

"How did it go?"

I look up from my book, surprised at how much time has passed, since Darry is home without me noticing it. He stands in the doorway to my room, still dressed in his work clothes. There is an open eagerness in his face, he doesn't even try to hide it.

I tap my fingers on the book cover, regretting telling him about the scouts. Of course he would ask, but there is no way I will tell him that I stood over. He wouldn't understand, would only ask me why. And what would I say then?

"I... guess it could've gone better."

He smiles. "I'm sure you did fine."

It feels like a needle is stuck into my heart. Whatever I say now will hurt him, and he has been hurt enough. Maybe the truth will hurt the most, I don't know.

"I didn't, actually. The others have practiced longer than I have."

He winces a little. Every time something reminds us of my years away, a noticeable pain flickers in his eyes. It will always follow us, our past, the reason I didn't run track for two years. The past that makes the lies fit into my mouth as they never have before.

"It's fine, Darry," I say, forcing a smile. "I did my best. It's not my last chance or anythin'. I still have the meets."

He nods, relieved over what I offer him. "I know it's not. Next time, right?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry. I know you'll make it to college. Just keep your grades up."

He smiles, and I smile bigger too, glad he can't see how fake it is.

xXx

_I close the front door behind my back, and after a second thought, I turn around and lock it. Then I unlock it again, knowing no one has keys with them. We never used to lock the door before, and I hardly think they have started with it now._

_I take a step back and watch it. Just look at it. Almost hear the knocks, sure that Mr. Syme called again after my talking to him today. Why wouldn't he? I should just stay away from him, not give him any reasons as I did before._

_I still stand there staring when the door suddenly opens, and Two-Bit walks inside. We both jump in surprise, but he catches himself first._

_"Pony?" he says, and I move away._

_"Just thought I heard a noise," I say, ears red, trying to make it sound true. But I can tell by Two-Bit's eyes he's not really listening anyway. There is something sparkling in them, something mischievously, and I know he's up to something. Before I know it, he shoves a bundle into my arms._

_"What's this?" I shake the fabrics out and find them to be a green, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of black pants. "What?"_

_He grins big. "I got myself a job."_

_"You didn't!"_

_Two-Bit throws himself down onto the couch. "Sure did!"_

_I give the clothes a double take. "Ain't this what they wear at the grocery shop Darry used to go to?"_

_"Look good, don't they?" He places his feet on the coffee table. "I'll be the best lookin' guy in the bunch."_

_I glance between the clothes in my hand and my friend._

_"Don't look at me like that," he grins. "I swear I ain't sick. Just a poor guy. Could use some money."_

_"But, um..."_

_"You think I can't stock shelves and do the math at the cash register, Ponyboy? I didn't go to school for nothin'."_

_I put the clothes down on the coffee table, taking a step back. This is weird. Two-Bit and a job. It doesn't fit. He's supposed to be the eternal High Schooler, but now he's not in High School anymore. I knew that, though. It was my first day today, and I was alone. I just realize he must have graduated, but where was I then? I wasn't here. No one told me._

_"Hey, what's -"_

_"It's great." I take another step back. "It really is."_

_"Don't throw a party in here just because of that, kiddo." Then he sighs, snatches the shirt and rises. I feel him following me into the kitchen. "So how was it to go back to good ol' Will Rogers?"_

_Strange. People staring. Had to change my schedule and ran into to Mr. Syme._

_But I go with the standard answer. "Fine."_

_I can practically hear him rolling his eyes._

_"So when's _your_ first day?" I ask, turning around and leaning myself against the counter. Change the subject. Like he would allow that._

_"Seriously, Pony," he says, and everyone has grown up a bit in my absence. Even him._

_"Seriously what?"_

_"It went okay? I mean, Steve and I ain't there to back you up anymore."_

_"I don't need that." I shove one hand down into my pocket. "I've been alone before."_

_He cringes at that, and I almost do too. I was alone..._

_"So you finally graduated?" I say quickly._

_"Shoot, I didn't actually 'graduate'." He makes quotation-marks in the air, still holding the shirt in his hand. "Wasn't allowed to stay."_

_"They kicked you out?"_

_"Let's call it an agreement." He sits down in a kitchen chair. "Was too old for that place anyway. My new place on the other hand -"_

_"You got a diploma?"_

_He glances at me. "I got somethin' for my mom to nail up on the wall."_

_I clench the hand in my pocket, looking down. "Steve, too?"_

_"He got better grades than me so they might even have framed it."_

_I want to ask him if they celebrated. If they stood in front of everybody in gowns and caps, if my brothers were there to watch. But I don't. I wasn't there, and we can't change the time. What does it matter? I already knew their lives moved on without me._

_I move my head to flick my hair out of my eyes._

_"So... um, grocery store?" I try again, ignoring the deep pit in my stomach. I'm used to it._

* * *

_So... here's the sequel! I really hope you will like it. The story starts 1 year after Pony got home, the cursive text can be both back or forth in time. I hope it won't be too confusing. I will try to be clear.  
_

_Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think._

_I don't own The Outsiders._


	2. The House

**Burning Inside**

** 2. The House**

_Sometimes when I look back, I try to figure out When. I think I know Why; at least, that is what I tell myself. To make it more bearable. Like I can explain what I did. Like I'm not the one to blame. I had a good reason for my bad choice, didn't I?_

_ But When._

_ It's not like I just woke up one morning and said to myself, "Hey, let's screw up my life again!" It wasn't like that. I wouldn't have done it if I had had all the answers. But I didn't have them, and I needed something. It was the only way for me to put out the fire, if only for a moment. God knows I needed that. A break from myself and everything going on inside._

xXx

Today's date is circled with a red pen. It must have been there forever, I just didn't really notice it until now. It hasn't even bothered me before, but now it stands out against the black and white page nailed up on the wall. I lift my hand, let my thumb rub over the line, but I know it's no use. I can't erase it. I can't make it go away and I can't rip the calendar down into a thousand pieces either, so I drop my hand again, to press it into my side.

It's been a year now, exactly. September 20. The court date.

Behind me Soda scuffles into the kitchen, wearing only pyjama pants. I hear him yawn as he drags out a chair and sits down.

"Mornin', Pony. What's for breakfast?"

I turn around and cross my arms, giving him a funny look. "Breakfast? Who says I'm gonna make it?"

He raises one eyebrow. "Well, it's only you and me up yet, bud. Either you'll fix it, or I'll have to."

"Is that a threat?"

He grins, and I roll my eyes. It has been mornings when Darry and I have woken up to strange smells from the kitchen and going in there, just to find Soda trying 'something new'. At its best, it has been edible, but most of the time, Darry has had to save us from leaving the house with empty stomachs.

"Aw, c'mon, Pony," Soda pleads. "I'm hungry."

I shake my head with a sigh. "Fine! What do you want?"

He leans back, looking too satisfied over his small victory. "Eggs, please."

"At least you say please." I walk up to the fridge, take out the carton and place it on the counter. "Hard-boiled?" I glance over my shoulder.

"Yeah."

I fill water into a pan and place it on the stove, before carefully putting the eggs into it. Suddenly a memory hits me; of me being just a kid, accidentally cracking all the eggs when dumping them into the water, all at once instead of one by one. I remember Mom's scowling too, but she could never stay mad for long. She laughed at it later.

I really miss her sometimes.

"You know what day it is, right?" Soda suddenly asks, breaking into my thoughts. I feel how I stiffen; I know he saw me watching the calendar before.

"Yeah, I know."

"So?"

"So, what?" I put the burner on, still not turning around.

"I don't know. Maybe we should do somethin'? Like... celebrate?"

I bite the insides of my cheeks, not answering him. Celebrate? What for? It wasn't like we won something. Maybe I'm home, but that doesn't mean we didn't lose. It didn't give us anything back, the time I want most of all. It didn't erase everything that happened. It didn't heal the feeling of loneliness I have felt ever since the state came and took me.

"Hey, Darry?" I hear Soda say, and I turn my head, discovering our oldest brother in the doorway. "What about dinner out tonight?"

"Yeah, sure. I can pick you guys up after work." Darry smiles big and walks up beside me. "How about that restaurant on -"

"No," I interrupt him.

I feel their eyes on me.

"I don't want to do anything," I say, trying to sound calm, but my voice races too fast. "I'm not... I just don't want to think about it, is all."

Darry glances at Soda, but just for a short moment. He frowns slightly when he looks back at me. "It's okay, Ponyboy. We don't have to do anything."

"We just thought -" Soda starts, but then he hesitates, watching me. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Shit. I hate this day already, and it's only morning yet. "Um, can you guys watch the eggs? I just need to-"

I hurry out before they have the time to say anything, almost running out onto the porch, letting the door slam behind me. I grip the railing with both hands, breathe deeply a couple of times, before letting go and grabbing the pack of smokes from my pocket instead.

I think about the past a lot more than I want to. I just wish I knew how to make it go away.

xXx

_We've been here before. That's why my legs are so jittery, my palms so sweaty. Mr. Parker sits next to me, repeating again that this is mostly a formality, it will not be like the last time, but his words can't stop me from shaking visibly. I picture what will happen too clearly - the judge will look at Darry and say that he's no good. Ms. West will tell them about a new family for me, saying I have to move in with them..._

_I can't force the thoughts away, my fantasies are too vivid._

_Soda sits on my other side. He smoked before breakfast and on the ride here. He smoked with me outside the court house. His fingers have had a stick between them all morning, but now he just taps them nervously against his leg. I have never seen him smoke that much in such a short time before. He must be nauseous by now._

_I lean back against the wall when I hear high heels clicking on the floor. We all stiffen. Ms. West walks past us, and Soda grips my arm. Stopping me from running, from jumping her, stopping her from taking me, who knows? He doesn't let go._

_Our case number is called out, and Soda has to drag me to my feet. I don't want to go into that room. It feels like I'm fourteen again, like that day, and I just know we're going to lose. We always do. Our hand is always a crappy one._

_Ms. West is there, and some other guy I don't recognize, and the judge is new, too. This time I'm allowed to sit with my brothers at least. I grip around the chair's seat with my hands, stare down at the table top as they talk. I try to listen but my heart is too loud. All my breaths feel shallow._

_It's the worst fifteen minutes of my life until Darry signs the papers, and I'm back in his custody again. Not as a foster kid, but as his minion. Everyone is happy, happy, happy. Maybe not Ms. West. She smiles at me though, so maybe she thinks this is right. I honestly don't know. I don't want to see her ever again._

_We meet Two-Bit and Steve outside, and I laugh with them. I don't even care when Two-Bit ruffles my hair and lifts me up in a hug. I don't even care when Steve calls me a brat on the way home. I haven't felt this great, this free, for a long time._

xXx

I take a deep inhale on my cigarette. I don't really know when the happy haze I was in after court started to fade. I was calm enough to manage to ignore Mr. Syme, relaxed enough to let a friend into my life again, even if I never have told Eddie much about my past. I even started to think that maybe it was possible to move on. To not look back. And I think I did well, I want to _believe_ I did well.

Until I saw that fire in January. With the house that burned down and killed a man. It said in the paper he was just inches from the door when they found him, so close to making it out alive.

I rub my forehead, hard. I don't know why that got to me so much. Why I started thinking so much, still thinking about it. About Mom and Dad, Johnny and Dally and all my foster homes and how things change so fast. How you can do nothing about it, not even when the salvation is so close you can reach out and touch it if you want. Not even then can you stop it from happening.

Did I even have any options back then? Could I have done things differently? Maybe it doesn't matter what I do, other people's part in my life affects it too much. I will never have control. I can try to stand still when the days move on and on but I will be forced to move with them anyway. It never ends, the changes. Like every other day when I have to shave the stubble off my chin. Every time I notice a single gray hair on Darry's head, even if he's only twenty-three. The times I find Soda at the table, going over the bills and making the monthly budget. It wasn't like this before.

It wasn't. It was all different.

I know I should go inside again, or my brothers will wonder. I put out the cigarette and grip the doorknob, letting my other hand rest on the wall for a while, feeling the chipped painting under my palm, before I open the door.

I try to act like everything is fine when I walk back into the kitchen. Both Darry and Soda look at me a bit strangely, but I pretend not to notice it, just sitting down on my chair. I wish it wasn't Saturday, and Soda's day off. Times like this, with feelings like this, all I want is to be alone. Bury my nose into a book or something. Escape from reality.

I reach for a piece of bread instead.

"So what are you two up to today?" Darry says casually, like the conversation before never happened, like I never rushed out in some kind of panic.

"Can I get the butter?" I ask quietly, ignoring his question. He hands it to me.

"We'll think of somethin'," Soda says, glancing at me. I occupy myself with my food while thinking frantically of something to say, to give a good suggestion. To show that I'm normal.

"Will Steve and Two-Bit stop by?" Darry wonders after some silent moments.

"No, they're workin'. I talked to Steve yesterday."

Outside the window the sky is blue, showing it will be a warm day. I put the butter knife down as an idea suddenly hits me.

"Um, maybe we can paint the house?"

Soda puffs. "Paint the _house_?" he repeats, like he can't believe I just said that. "Why would you wanna do that?"

"I just thought we could do it. It looks terrible, you know that. All the old paint is comin' off." I remember the rough surface under my hand.

Darry chuckles and points at Soda with his fork. "You should have done that a long time ago, buddy. Listen to Pony."

"Come on, Soda, it could be fun," I urge, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh.

"Aw, shit. I won't get away, will I?"

After Darry has taken the truck to work, Soda and I take the car we share and drive to a home improvement store for paint and brushes. I sit behind the wheel, and Soda props his elbow against the ledge below the window beside him.

"I can't believe you persuaded me into doing this," he complains, but his eyes are bright. "You know how much work it will be? I think we'll need to peel off all the old paint first before we can start."

I don't take my eyes off the road, laughing slightly. "Is that why you keep postponin' it? Too much work?"

"You figured that right." He laughs too and sits up straighter. "Turn left here."

I got my license this summer, and I can tell he still wants to tell me how to drive sometimes, but at least he's better than Darry at shutting up. I don't know why they fuss over me so much; I'm not a bad driver. Two-Bit is much worse, and they never say anything to him when he hits the brakes so hard they screech or make turns just in front of other cars. I would never do that.

The parking lot is almost empty this time of day. I park close to the doors, no other cars around, and we climb out and go inside.

"Not any crazy color," I warn as we find the painting section in the store, but Soda only looks at me, mischievous. I groan, knowing what will come.

"Don't be so boring, Pony. What about green?"

"No."

"Blue then?"

"No!"

"Aw, c'mon..."

"I think white."

"But the house is white already." He looks closer at the Maroon paint, but I drag him away from there.

"That's why we'll paint it white again." I lift one of the biggest buckets. "Help me out here. These things are heavy."

"Since when did you become the adult?" Soda jokes as he lifts up one too and places it in our cart. "You've grown up so fast that I've hardly noticed."

His words hit me like a blow. I know he didn't mean it like I think, not referring to the past at all, but it still hurts. I wonder when it will stop. When not every little word and action will remind me of what we missed.

I smile at him, though. I can't show anything.

Back at the house again we put the buckets in the garage and get the ladder, then start at the back of the house, scraping off the old paint with the steel brushes we bought. It's hot to be the end of September, and soon we both head inside to change to cut off jeans and get caps for shelter.

"Christ," Soda says at lunch-time, gulping down a glass of water as I stand by the stove. "We won't finish this weekend, that's for sure. It's gonna take weeks!"

I stir in the pan. "I don't mind. Do you?"

Soda puts his glass down in the sink and jumps up onto the counter. "We can force Darry to help out tomorrow. He ain't gotta work then."

"Maybe Two-Bit and Steve, too."

"Nah, Two-Bit's too lazy, and Steve has plans with Evie, I think."

"They're serious now?" I stretch after the pepper, see Soda's face change some.

"I think so. They have been a bit off and on before, but now..." He shrugs and looks down at his hands, letting a thumb trace the scar there. It's just a thin, white line by now, but I always feel bad when I see it. It feels like it's my fault that he has it. But I can tell it's not the scar that bothers him, it's something else. I chew on my lip. Soda is twenty soon, in just a couple of months. At his age Dad was already married with a kid on the way. I think of Steve and Evie and Sandy, and an uncomfortable feeling comes over me. Neither Soda or Darry have any dates, that I know of anyway, but what if that is what they both want to have? Get their own families, and I'm the one who is standing in their way?

I blink. I don't want to stop them from living their lives, but I can't help but wonder for how long we will be living in this house together. Steve already has a room downtown that he rents. Two-Bit still lives at home, but that is for helping his mom with the bills, and maybe because he's too lazy to do otherwise. I can't really see him cooking dinner or doing his own laundry; even him working at a regular job is still a shock. But what if Soda wants to move out, like Steve? It scares me. It shouldn't, but it does. I don't want us to split up again, but I know that someday, we will. We're all growing up.

I turn around abruptly. "It's finished."

"Huh?"

"The food." I open the kitchen drawer and pick out knives and forks. My hands feel all jittery, so I quickly drop the cutlery on the table and go and get the plates.

Soda frowns. "Pony, what's wrong?"

I force a smile. "I thought you would stop askin' me that a year ago."

"I'm never gonna stop askin' you that." He jumps down and grabs my arm.

"I'm just hungry, is all," I hurry to say. "Can't we just eat already?" His eyes narrow a bit, but then he lets go.

"You sure it ain't nothin'?" he says as we sit down at the table.

"Yeah. I would tell you if it was." I meet his eyes calmly, so he won't see that I'm lying.

xXx

The next day we wake up early to work on the house. The grass is wet with dew when we step outside, but I like the feeling of the last summer days. The air is a bit chilly against our bare arms, but I think it will be a nice day like yesterday later. I hope so.

I go get my steel brush and climb up the ladder. We still have a lot of work with the scraping, because even though the old paint is really chipped, it doesn't come off that easily. I like the work, though. It keeps my mind off of things.

Soda puts the radio on full volume inside, and opens a couple of windows. I can't help but laugh at him as he sings along and makes some silly movements to the music. I swear, sometimes he's like a kid.

"You better work, Soda!" I shout at him.

He looks up at me with a grin, then turns his DX cap backwards. "I'm workin'!"

An hour flies by, and my arms are getting heavy of reaching up to peel the paint off from just under the roof. I'm just about to climb down to get some water when it happens. I must be tired or hurry too much, because my foot suddenly slips from the ladder's step, and before I know it I lose my grip and tumble down, landing on the grass.

"Shit, Pony, you okay?" Soda is on his knees beside me, and I sit up with a groan.

"Yeah."

"What happened? You just fell." His expression is serious, his face a little pale. I push my hair out of my eyes, trying to figure out what's up and what's down. My head is spinning.

"I slipped. It's nothin' to be worked up about, it was just a couple of feet."

Soda stares up at the ladder for a moment. "Hm. More like five feet, but all right. At least you're alive. C'mon, stand up."

He takes my arm and helps me, and I feel my face crease into a grimace when my weight lands on my right ankle. Pain shoots through my leg, and Soda pushes me back to lean against the wall.

"What hurts?" he demands.

"Just my ankle." I look down at it. A bruise is already forming on my skin. Funny, I didn't even feel it before, but now it's throbbing.

Soda sinks down on his heels and touches it gently. "I sure hope it ain't broken," he says, sounding worried.

"It's not." I put my foot down, but Soda rises quickly.

"Hey, don't stand on it!"

"It doesn't hurt that much."

"We should put ice on it. Come on, I'll help you inside." He drapes my arm over his shoulders, and somehow I manage to hop around the house and up the porch steps on only one leg. I'm placed in the recliner, and then Soda goes into the kitchen, coming back with a bag of peas. He tosses it to me, and I take it and press it against my malleolus, wincing a bit at the coldness.

Soda sits down on the coffee table in front of me. "You think we should go see a doctor?" he asks.

"No, I'm all right."

"Yeah, you better be. I ain't doin' all the work by myself, you know. It was your idea." He leans slightly forward. "You really are okay, right?"

I meet his gaze. "Yeah," I say, smiling. "It's just a sprained ankle. Don't worry so much."

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think :)  
_


	3. The School

**Burning Inside**

**3. The School**

"Shit, this is heavy!" Eddie complains as he struggles to get his backpack up on his shoulders. Mine is the same; I get tired just thinking about what I have to do for homework when I get home. But I guess the assignments will make my mind occupied from other thoughts, so maybe it's good after all.

We walk down the stairs from our schools front doors, and I stop at the bottom to dig up the pack of Kools from my pocket. I shake it - there's only a few left and I bought the pack this morning. I know I should probably try to cut down a bit; I smoke more now than I have ever done before, but I kind of need it. It calms me.

Eddie watches as I light up, but he doesn't ask for one for himself like he usually does. Instead, he just shoves his hands down into his pockets, leaning back on his heels.

"So... you're not goin' to track practice anymore?" he asks a bit warily.

I blow out smoke through my nose and shake my head. "I told you I hurt my ankle this weekend."

He looks away, stares at the cars driving by on the street. "Yeah but you weren't there last week either. You haven't been there since the scouts." He studies me again, his blue eyes slightly narrowed. "You ain't quitting, are you?"

I don't know why I suddenly feel annoyed by his question. "So? You're not my father, why do you have to care?"

He presses his mouth into a thin line and glares at me. I sigh, too tired for this.

"Maybe I am."

"Why?" He frowns deeper. "I don't get it."

I shrug a little. It's hard to explain what I feel about it even to myself.

"You're one of the best in the team," he persists.

"No, I'm not."

"Well, you can be."

I shake my head, but I know he's right. I just can't put my heart into it anymore. It doesn't mean anything. I still like to run just for the feeling of it, the freedom it gives, but I don't want to run with others. Not competitively.

"So you ain't comin'?"

"No. I'm goin' home." I give him one last look before I start to move.

"Coach is askin' for you," he says as I reach the sidewalk, talking high enough for me to hear.

I turn my head slightly, but I don't stop. "Let him ask, then. See you tomorrow."

xXx

I continue to ignore my track practice during the week, debating with myself what I should say to Coach Harris about it. I avoid places I know he could be at when I move between my classes, tricking myself into believing that if I just ignore it, the problem will disappear. I tell myself he won't really care anyway, he wants devoted runners or you can split, he has told us that before. So I guess I can just split, then. I only hope Darry won't find out.

On Friday I come home late in the afternoon, after having been out to buy cigarettes and borrow some books from the library for a school project. My brothers and Steve are working on the house again, and I walk around to the back where their voices come from. Little by little we have prepared it, and this week we started to paint it. It looks good from the street. Still run-down, but a lot better than before.

"Hey, Pony, take a brush," Soda says when he sees me, smiling big.

Darry looks down at me from the ladder, and his gaze makes me take a step back, the bag with my books tapping against my leg. He doesn't look angry, but I can tell there is something that he wants. Probably not anything good.

"Pony," he says calmly. "We need to talk."

"Um, okay." I try not to sound nervous, but my heart starts to thump in my chest.

I use our back door to get inside, sitting down in the couch while I wait for Darry to change his clothes. I pick up my books from the bag, just arranging them in a pile on the coffee table when he turns up in the doorway, dragging a clean t-shirt over his head. He sits down too, beside me on the couch.

"You okay, Pony?" he starts.

I nod, waiting. I just want this over with.

"I'm just wondering because I got a phone call an hour ago." He's watching my reaction. I try not to show anything, but inside I have a small turmoil.

"Okay..."

"You know what it was about?"

I don't answer. It's pretty obvious what it must be, but if I'm wrong, I won't give it to him freely.

"It was your coach, wondering about your knee since he hasn't seen you for a while." He gets quiet, as if to let it sink in, seeking my gaze when I try to turn it away. "I thought maybe he had misunderstood, so I said it was your ankle -"

"I can explain," I mumble.

"You can explain why you lied to both of us?" His voice is still calm, but that only makes it worse. I can sense that he's upset, but he's good at hiding it. Only his tensed jaw reveals it.

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't run for the scouts? Your coach asked me if I had taken you to the doctor's appointment yet!"

I look down at my hands.

"What if he throws you out of the team because of this? It can happen, Pony."

"I don't care about that," I say. Actually, I think that is what I want. It would make it easier, then it won't be only my decision.

"You don't care if he throws you out?" Darry repeats slowly, like he can't believe I just said that.

I jut my chin up. This is my life. "No. I'm tired of runnin' track."

"Tired of it? What about your chances to get a scholarship?"

"Maybe I don't care about that either," I say, before I can stop myself.

Darry frowns now, looking a lot more angry. "How else are you going to pay for college? You know damn well I won't be able to help you."

"You know what, Darry? All you care about is college! Doing homework and gettin' A's!" I let my hand lash out, knocking the book pile over. For some reason we both jump when all but one falls to the floor with loud thuds.

My heart beats hard when I turn to Darry again. "Why can't I do what_ I_ want for a change?" I almost shout.

"What do you want then?" Darry retorts strained. I can tell he is trying hard to not start yelling back. "'Cause I'll tell you, Pony, I have worked hard to get you somewhere."

I clench my hands. "You mean like Owasso and Muskogee and Oklahoma City?" I scoff. "That took me real far."

"Christ," Darry bursts, paling visibly. "That was not what I -" He interrupts himself, suddenly looking so sad and uncertain I regret every word I just said. I watch him drag a hand through his hair, struggling to say something. I don't know why I'm hurting him like this.

"I'm sorry. I know it wasn't your fault."

"What are we supposed to do?" he breathes out. "I don't know what's up with you, Ponyboy. I thought everything was good now."

Like I would know.

"Nothin' is up with me! I'm just tired of track and school and -"

"School? What about school?"

Shit. I rub my palms against my jeans, deciding to just go for it. Someday I will have to, it might as well be now. "I just... I just don't know if I will go to college, is all."

"What? Of course you are! That's damn important!"

"Darry -"

"No, Ponyboy! I won't let you give up on that. I know you've had a rough couple of years growing up but it is not the answer to give up on your future!"

I bite my lip, not knowing how to make him understand. "I'm not givin' up on anything! I'm just sayin'..."

He shakes his head. "Don't throw your chance away. Look at Soda! He doesn't get much more than minimum wage at his job. I work six days a week to make ends meet and that's hardly enough! You don't want that, Pony, if you can do better!"

Tears burn in my eyes, but I don't show it. He doesn't get it. I don't care if I'm poor, if I just don't have to leave them. I don't want to have it better than them, I don't want things to change. I'm happy where I am if it just could stay how it is, but now he makes me feel separated from them, like he thinks I should have a different life. But I already had that before. For almost two years, and I hated every second of it.

I close my eyes because of the panic rising. I belong here, not in some other life. Why can't he see that?

"I just want what's best for you, Pony."

I open my mouth to protest, but in the same time someone swears in the back yard, and we hear Two-Bit laughing out loud. He must have come by just now. I force myself to breathe normally, and I look up at Darry, clearing my throat.

"Yeah I know. I won't throw it away," I rasp out. It feels like a lie. It is a lie, but he buys it, of course he does. It's what he wanted to hear.

"I really hope not. You're too smart for that."

I swallow, feeling exhausted all sudden. His words are too intense, and maybe he's right. I'm the one doing wrong here.

"I guess I'm just tired," I say quietly, surrendering. "I've got a lot of homework, and I just... I'm tired."

His face softens. "I know things can be tough senior year, and it can be a bit scary thinking about college. But you'll make it, I know you will."

More loud curses can be heard from the back yard, and Darry shakes his head.

"We should head outside again. I'm not sure I trust the three of them out there alone with all that paint."

"Yeah."

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm glad we talked, kiddo. If it gets too much in school, come and talk to me again, okay? I can help you out."

"Okay."

"And about track..." He trails off, meeting my gaze. I know what he wants.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll go back when my ankle is better."

"Think about it, at least. That's all I'm asking."

He rises, but I don't follow him out immediately. First I pick up the books from the floor, slowly putting them back onto the table. I know that Darry wants me to have what he couldn't. College and athletics. He gave up everything for me when our parents died, worked so hard to get me back when the state broke into our lives. He could have let go instead and finally lived his own life, but he didn't. He still doesn't.

And now I'm paying him back by disappointing him. I don't know what to do.

xXx

We spend the whole weekend finishing the house. Late on Sunday afternoon, we paint the last board, then Soda and I high-five, take some steps back to look at our handiwork.

"I can't believe you made me do this," Soda says. But he laughs and slings an arm around my shoulders. I put a hand on my growling stomach.

"You think Darry has dinner ready?" I ask him.

"I sure hope so."

We walk inside and kick off our shoes while talking. Darry sticks his head out from the kitchen doorway.

"Go change!" he says, looking us up and down with a grin. Our old clothes are spotted with white, not just from today, and Soda takes my arm and drags me to the laundry room.

Five minutes later we sit down at the table, washed up as good as we can. I put my elbow on the table and lean my head in my hand, feeling a bit down all of a sudden. I guess I'm just tired.

On Monday morning, I hardly can get up from bed. I turn off my alarm and plop down onto the mattress again, burying my face into the pillow. I take it its scent of detergent and hair grease, unwillingly starting to think of all the pillows I've slept on in the past. They always smelled different, not like home at all. I can't even think of sleeping somewhere else than in this room now. I press my hands to my temples, trying to make the thoughts of all the foster homes go away.

Darry comes and opens my door, knocking on the door frame to get my attention. "Breakfast's ready. You have to get up or you will be late," he warns me.

I lift my head slightly, blinking up at him. "I'm comin'. Just give me a minute."

He nods and walks away. I let my head sink down again, closing my eyes. It feels like I weigh tons; I don't know where I can get the strength to even sit up. Staying in bed seems to be a good choice for today. I drag the cover up over me.

"Pony!" Soda suddenly sits on the bedside, shaking my shoulder. I must have fallen asleep again, because I didn't even notice him coming. I feel his hand on my forehead for a short moment. I guess he decides I'm not sick, because then he tries to turn me over. "Get up, sleepy head!"

"I'm up," I protest.

"You're not." He takes my arm and drags. "C'mon, I need the car today so I thought I'd drive you to school. You can walk home, right?"

I rub my eyes as I sit, trying to take in the information. "Yeah. Yeah, I can walk."

"Great. You have to be ready in ten."

Ten? I turn my head and look at the clock. Shit.

"Where's Darry?" I wonder as I rise and take my jeans lying on the floor, dragging them on. I took a shower yesterday, so a quick wash up in the bathroom will be enough this morning.

"He had to leave. Told me to be sure I got you up in time."

"Ten minutes ain't in time."

"Don't be cocky." He grins when I roll my eyes.

I quickly do what I need in the bathroom, then go to the kitchen. I gnaw down a slice of bacon and grab a sandwich to go, get my backpack and follow Soda outside.

Our Ford is not a beauty but it works. Soda knows what's going on under the hood, but all I know about is the four wheels and the steering wheel, but that is enough for me. It can take me where I want to go, that's all I care about.

Usually Soda lets me drive when we have it at the same time, to keep my skills up as he says, but this time I ride shotgun. I'm too tired to even dare otherwise, and Soda doesn't even ask when I open the passenger door.

I eat my sandwich along the way, finishing it just as he hits the brakes outside of school. "Take care today," he says, eyeing me as I reach for the door handle. I look at him, noticing a small frown between his eyes.

"It's okay," I say. "I'm just tired after the weekend."

He smiles, relieved. "Figured. All that hard work, ey?"

I tell myself it's not only a lie. "Yeah. See you at home, then?"

"Yup. I will probably be a little late, so tell Darry you won't have to wait for me at dinner, okay?"

I watch him, but he doesn't explain. I yank the door open and step outside. "I'll tell him. Bye."

I stand on the sidewalk as he drives away, and then I really try to walk up the stairs to school, but it's like my legs won't obey me. Like someone has poured glue on the street. I just stand there, looking at the other students walking past me, disappearing through the front doors, but I can't move.

I search in my backpack for my cigarettes, and when I finally find them my hands are shaking. I curse lowly as I try to get a stick out, breathing out when I succeed.

"And here I thought I was late."

I turn my head. Eddie raises his eyebrows as he sees me with the unlit cigarette between my lips.

"First bell will ring in a second."

"I know." I pick up my lighter anyway.

"I don't think you'll have the time for that."

I don't care; I light up with an inhale.

"You want one too?" I ask him.

He grimaces, looks at me, our school, back to me. Then he shrugs. "What the hell. Why not?"

I hand him the pack before picking up my backpack, and we move away to not be seen by any teacher. We walk a block away before I stop, leaning myself against a wall and just breathe and smoke and breathe again. I feel much more free here.

"So... you plan to ditch just home room or all day?"

I struggle with my conscience. I have ditched some classes before, it's not that. I think it's my thoughts from this weekend, about not going to college. Ditching a lot would probably make that impossible. It would be a relief, in a way. Like how I do with track. Just make sure it won't happen, that they won't want me. Maybe I could start working at the DX with Soda and Steve instead. Cars can't be that hard, I'll learn...

"Maybe we should go back now?" Eddie says.

I open my eyes and look at him. "I ain't goin' back."

"So, hm..."

"I'll just stay here."

He looks doubtful. "All day?"

"Why not?" To prove my point, I sit down on the curb. "Doesn't matter, right?" I say. "Here or there. It's all the fuckin' same."

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about." He drops his backpack next to me. "How come you just wanna ditch today? First track and now this."

I take in the surroundings. It's a calm street. The few shops close by are not even open yet; almost no one is walking or driving by.

"I mean it doesn't matter what I do," I try to explain. "Life is screwed up anyway."

He lets out a sigh. "Yeah, tell me about it."

I look up, studying his face. It dawns on me that I hardly know him. We have been friends for a year, and I have told him almost nothing about me. He almost never talks about himself, either. We met in English class and at track practice, and somehow we just started talking, but I realize we never really _talk_. We both like to run and smoke and I know he doesn't have any close friends, like me, since he came new to school Junior year. Maybe him talking to me is one of the reasons for that, I don't know.

After the first days, when some of my old friends were curious about me and where I had been for two years, they all just turned to ignore me a week later. I have heard the rumors - that I wasn't living with relatives like I have explained my years away, but in juvie for some crime, when the fuzz couldn't frame me for the murder of Bob Sheldon. I don't really care what anyone thinks, as long as they leave me alone. But now I can't help wondering what Eddie believes. He must have heard the rumors, too.

He looks a bit uncomfortable now, keeps staring at the watch around his wrist. I pick up another cigarette, light in against my first, before I throw the butt away. I think he thinks I'm calm, but I'm not. I know I shouldn't do this. I still have time to head back, without missing too much. But just the thought of sitting in school all day makes me exhausted, and I almost wonder if I maybe am starting to get sick. That would explain the feeling I have.

"Pony..."

"I told you I ain't goin' to school today," I snap, almost crushing the cigarette between my fingers. Shit. Everyone just nags at me. I wipe a hand over my face and scramble to my feet.

"Want me to tell them you're sick or somethin'? I mean..."

I stop short, turn against him. "Would you do that?" I wonder, a bit surprised.

"Yeah, no problem." He leans down and pick up his backpack, watching me, uncertain. "Okay?"

I nod. "Okay. Thanks."

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait! I hope you liked this chapter :)  
_


	4. The Bourbon

**Burning Inside**

**4. The Bourbon**

"Nice and cold," Two-Bit says from behind. I turn my head and accept the bottle he gives me, before he sits down next to me on the slope, nodding toward the road.

"Soda's wonderin' if you want to go down there."

I shake my head. "No, it's too crowded. But you can go if you want."

"Nah, I'm fine sittin' here, kid."

I glance at him as he stretches out his long legs. I think that he would rather go down to the others, but I don't say anything. Instead I take a small sip of the beer he just gave me. It's my third for the night, and since I'm not really used to drinking - it was a long time ago I went to that last party - I already feel a slight dizziness. The noises around, people talking loud and laughing, and the smell of alcohol, fumes and rubber burns on the asphalt, doesn't make it any better either. But it's okay. For some reason I feel kind of good.

"Who did you place your bet on?" I ask Two-Bit, loosen up my grip around the bottle's neck as I let it rest against my thigh.

He grins at me, leaning in closer. "Don't tell Steve this, but I put my money on Terry."

I give him a funny look. "Terry Richardo?"

"He gives eight times the money, kiddo."

I laugh a little, shaking my head again. "That means he's probably goin' to lose, Two-Bit."

"Yeah? I guess we'll see about that."

We sit up a little straighter when a car horn honks. It's not a great view over the road from our spot, the finishing line far ahead of us, but there are so many people out there I prefer it like this. I don't want to be in the middle of it all.

"And off they go," Two-Bit informs me unnecessarily as we hear the roars from the engines. He lifts a hand to shadow his eyes, squinting them slightly while following the tail lights of the two cars.

"Damn," he mutters at they come to stop a few seconds later, Steve's car obviously first over the goal.

"I told you so." I turn my head and grin at him, and he gives me a friendly punch on my shoulder, almost making me spilling my beer.

"If I didn't knew you better, I would think you're pleased with me losing five dollars, Ponyboy."

"Good thing you know me then." I smile as I lift the bottle to my mouth, taking another long drag.

xXx

"Shit, Ponyboy," Soda says as I wobble, grabbing my arm as I almost fall head over heels on the street. "You're real drunk, kiddo."

"Um... what?" I face him with a slight frown, trying to keep my balance as the world spins around me. With a sigh Soda props me up against Steve's car, then opens up the back door.

"Get in. We better take you home."

I manage to crawl into the backseat, leaning my head back as soon as I have sat down. I drag a hand along my face, thinking how everything feels so distant. Like it's not real. Even my skin feels numb under my fingers.

"How many did you give him?" I hear Soda say someplace far away. Outside the window Two-Bit raises both his hands in a soothing gesture.

"Only about five, I swear. He must be a lightweight."

Someone snorts in the front seat, and I roll my head forward again, meeting Steve's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"You ain't gonna hurl in my car, right?" he asks sternly when he see me looking at him.

"No."

He rolls his eyes, then opens his door and barks at Soda and Two-Bit to get inside, who quickly decide to obey him.

I close my eyes for a second as he turns the car around, driving out onto the street. My stomach lurches but I manage to keep everything down. I'm not really nauseous. I think.

"I feel great," I whisper to Soda next to me, because I don't want him to be mad at Two-Bit. He didn't force me to drink.

It looks like Soda tries not to laugh. "I bet you do."

I guess I must have fallen asleep after that, because I don't remember the drive home, only the chilly wind through my thin jacket as Soda helps me up the porch steps.

"You gonna tell Darry?" I mumble as he drags me inside.

"Why don't you tell him?" He lets go of me and I look up. Oh shit...

Darry crosses his arms where he stands in the living room. "Did you guys have any fun?" he asks casually, but his gaze lingers only on me. If I didn't know better, I would say he looks amused instead of pissed, but I don't think I'm really fit to make the right assumption.

I glance at Soda. "Um..."

He pats my shoulder. "No point askin' Pony, I don't think he remembers much."

"I remember!" I protest weakly, turning back to Darry. "Two-Bit lost five dollars," I tell him, because for some reason that feels important. I can't tell why, though. My mind is all messed up.

"I think you should go to bed," Soda says.

xXx

"Oh, man," I complain while walking into the kitchen the next morning. I press a hand to my temple - I've had headaches before but this one is strange. It doesn't feel normal.

Soda chuckles where he sits by the table, his fingers curled around a cup.

"There's coffee in the percolator if you want."

I shake my head, then jerk the door to the fridge open. I carefully inspect its contents before I realize I can't even think about food, let alone eat it. I decide on a glass of water instead; maybe that can make the bad taste in my mouth disappear.

"Where's Darry?" I turn around with my glass to lean against the counter.

Soda shrugs, takes a sip and grimaces. He grabs the sugar bowl, adds a spoonful into his cup and swirls. "He went out. I think grocery shoppin' or somethin'." He takes another sip and nods for himself, satisfied this time.

I tap my fingers against the glass, hesitate a bit at first, but then I feel I need to ask. "Soda? Wasn't he mad at me?"

"For what?"

I roll my eyes. He knows what I mean. The last time I was drunk I managed to keep it a secret from Darry; the times before that I was never that affected. Not like yesterday. If I don't count the time when I was thirteen, but that was different. Then I was just curious.

"It's okay, Pony," Soda says lightly. "He knows you were with me last night. And you're seventeen, it ain't like you are a little kid anymore."

"Yeah, but you know Darry."

"I can tell you a lot of stories about him when he was your age if you want." He gives me a mischievous grin.

I smile a little. "What did he do?"

"What _didn't_ he do? Christ, Pony, why do you think he has always been so worried about us?"

I shrug. To me, Darry has always seemed like the perfect son and big brother, the one smart enough to make all the right decisions. He had all A's and a scholarship to play football. I have a hard time actually believing he did stuff that would make Mom and Dad worried, but I guess Soda would be the one who would know if he did. They have always been close.

Soda suddenly looks a lot more serious.

"Honestly, Pony? I told him to let you live a little. After everythin'... I mean, shit..."

My grip tightens around the glass. "I don't want to talk about that," I press out.

"I know that. But it still happened -"

I turn around, put down my dish into the sink and leave the kitchen. It doesn't help - I already knew he would come after me. He grabs my arm just as I reach my room, forcing me to face him.

"Pony, c'mon..."

I jerk my arm free, take a few steps back over my threshold.

"You're always so worked up about it," Soda says. "We have to talk about it, you know that."

"I don't have to talk about it!"

He looks at me, hard. "Well, maybe I do. Have you even thought about that? Sometimes it feels I have no idea what was goin' on those years. You never told us anything then, and you hardly do it now, either. You just run everytime we even mention it. You can't pretend it's okay when it's not!"

"It is okay! If you could just stop talkin' about it!" I cross the floor, plop down on my bed and glare up at him. He stands leaning against the door frame, folding his arms in front of him.

"What's the point anyway?" I say to him. "I'm home now. I ain't goin' anywhere."

Soda sighs.

"I don't even remember much," I try. "It was over a year ago."

"I think you remember."

"Think that then, but I don't." I press my lips together and turn my head. I don't understand why we have this conversation, why he wants to talk about the past now, or why he wants to talk about it at all.

"Pony -"

I snap my gaze back to him. "And you shouldn't talk, Soda. I know you have secrets too. You use our car all the time and come home late but you never tell us where you're goin'!"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Why not? Why should I tell you things when you don't tell me things?"

Soda opens his mouth and closes it, looks to be at loss for words. I continue to glare, until he slowly walks over to my desk and sits down on the chair.

"You're right," he says lowly. "I guess I should tell you. I'm just... I wanted to wait until I knew if it was serious or not."

My heart suddenly skips a beat. "Serious? You ain't sick, are you?"

He laughs a little, but quickly stops again when noticing my expression. "No, I ain't sick, promise. Scared, maybe."

"Because of what?"

He studies me for a while, then lets out a breath. "Okay, I'll tell you. You're the first to know so keep quiet about it. The thing is... I've met someone."

"Met someone?" I push my hands down hard into the mattress beside me. What does he mean, _met_ someone? Then I suddenly get it, and my old fear rises inside me. He's moving out! He's leaving me. Just as I came home, it's only been a year, and now he's -

"Yeah. But I don't know yet. I mean, I really like her." He smiles a little, looking a bit uncertain.

I have to look away. I know I probably should ask him things. How she is. Her name, maybe. How they met in the first place. But I can't. My mouth feels dry, my heart beats so fast. I close my eyes and bite my lip, afraid of another panic attack. I haven't had one for real since just before I got to know I didn't have to testify in Joey's trial. I shouldn't panic about this, Soda's twenty! It was just a matter of time, it's three years since Sandy. It's normal, it's okay, he should have someone, and Darry too, maybe even I should...

"Pony?"

I force myself to look back at him. "Are you..?"

"We're only dating."

At least she's not his steady girlfriend yet, then. "Okay," I mumble.

"Her name's Holly."

I put a hand on my temple. I didn't want to know that.

"Okay," I repeat, because I have to say something.

"I think you would like her."

"Maybe."

"What's the matter?" He frowns a little, obviously a bit worried over my reaction.

"I'm just hung over. I have a headache."

"You want an aspirin?"

"No. I just wanna rest a bit." I look at him again, feeling I have to say something more. "You can tell me more about her later."

This time he smiles even bigger, and my stomach lurches, just as it did in the car last night.

xXx

"What's the matter with you?" Eddie says, picking up his pace to match mine. "Pony?"

"I just can't go to school today." I keep walking, not looking back. Soda just dropped me off, to go to the DX, and afterwards... I just know who he's going to meet. But he should be home with me instead. I was the one away for almost two years, he should want to make up for that time.

"Did somethin' happen?"

"No."

"Don't lie."

"I ain't lyin'. Nothin' has happened. I'm just sick of it all." I stop short, drop my backpack to the ground and cover my eyes with the heels of my hands. I'm acting like a little kid and I know it.

"Shit," I breathe out. When I look up, Eddie stands frowning in front of me.

"You goin' to tell me what it is?" he asks.

I don't say anything, just grab my backpack again. Last time I ditched I spent my time at the library, this time... I don't know. I just feel I need to move. I don't want to think - I want all these bad thoughts out of my head.

"Hey?" Eddie presses, catching up with me. "So if I'm gonna skip school with you today you can at least give me an explanation."

I shake my head. "It's complicated."

"I get complicated."

"Not this."

"Try me."

I stop again, and he does too. "I thought you didn't ditch," I say to him, and he stares at me silently for a while.

"I guess one time can't hurt," he finally says. "I think you need a friend right now."

"I don't need -" I stop, almost biting my tongue over the familiar words. I know I have said them before, in the past. To Jesse. I suddenly remember it, how I acted towards him, in the beginning and the end of our friendship. I know I shouldn't repeat that, but sometimes it's just so hard to have people close. I just end up being hurt.

"Go back to school," I say tiredly, picking up the pace again.

"You are impossible sometimes," Eddie complains. But he continues to keep up with me.

I don't really know where I'm heading, I just walk. I try to make some sense of my jumbled thoughts, but it's like they refuse to sort themselves out. In my head I know that I'm wrong, but the feeling I have in my chest tells me I'm right - this with Soda will change everything. And I'm not good with changes anymore.

I stop again when it suddenly feels like I'm going to cry. I hate doing that in front of people, but everything just collapses inside me. My breath feels stuck in my throat, and I know what it means. But I can't panic. Not here.

"Ponyboy?"

Eddie sounds worried, but I close my eyes and shake my head fast, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.

"Pony?"

I feel him grab my arm, and I let him lead me away. I don't look up until I feel a wall behind my back. We are in some kind of small alley, the side of a brick house in front of me, and Eddie's hands on my shoulders holding me upright.

"What's goin' on?" he urges fast.

"I can't... I can't tell you." I'm still holding the tears back, breathing unevenly. What can I say? That I am like this because my brother has a girl he wants to see? That sometimes life hurts so much I want to crawl into myself and disappear? It's ridiculous, I know. I have no reason to feel this way, and yet it feels like I'm falling into a hole. I come to think of the fire again, burning, destroying everything, and I know I need to put it out before -

"Shit, c'mon, you have to fuckin' _breathe_, Pony!" Eddie pushes me harder into the wall, the impact sudden enough to making me take a deep breath - finally filling my lungs with air. "You breathin' now?"

"Yeah..."

"Okay?"

I try to nod, closing my eyes again. Eddie keeps talking, but I can't really listen, the buzz in my ears too strong.

"Wait here," he suddenly says, letting go of me.

When he's gone, I sink down to the ground, hanging my head with my hands covering my mouth and nose. I need to calm down. I can't go on like this.

I knot one of my hands into a fist and bite on my knuckles, trying to ease the pain I can't explain, all the time screaming at myself in my head - come on! It's not like it matters!

But it does.

And I keep falling.

"Pony? Take this." Eddie is suddenly back, forcing something into my hands. It feels like a bottle. "Drink."

Thinking it's a soda, I take a gulp, only to sputter it out a second later, gagging at the taste.

"Christ... what... ?"

"It's just Bourbon."

I shove the bottle back at him, glaring as he quickly takes it before it falls to the ground. "Why would I want to have that?" I mumble.

"'Cause it helps."

"Helps with what?" I wipe my mouth with my sleeve, then press the heel of my hand into my forehead. It feels like I'm coming back.

Eddie sighs and sits down cross-legged in front of me. "It's... relaxing, ya know?"

I think of the beers I had Saturday night, how they made me feel before it was too much. "Yeah, but shit... where did you even get it?"

"There's a liquor store down the street."

I lower my hand and look at him, narrowing my eyes. "You ain't twenty-one."

"The clerk doesn't care. I've bought from him before."

"How could you even afford it?"

He shrugs. "It's only about five dollars. It's the cheap stuff." He hands me the bottle again. "C'mon, just drink some. You'll feel better."

I take it, but I still hesitate. "How do you know?"

He looks away, stares out onto the street and the people walking by.

"'Cause sometimes I feel like shit, too."

xXx

Later, we find a small park and sit down on a bench, placing our backpacks by our feet. Not many people are out - only a few kids too young for school climbing on the monkey bars ahead of us. Since there is not much else to do, I watch them silently, remembering a time when I felt free like that. When all I cared about was playing, when the worst that could happen was if another kid wanted to play with the same toy I wanted to have.

When my parents were still alive and everything was fine.

One of the kids doesn't seem so free and happy, though. Small with torn clothes and dark hair covering his dirty face, not moving around and shouting like the others. The woman who must be his mom stands at the side, angrily sucking on her cigarette. Now and then she barks something at him, and he slumps every time, moving even slower with his head hanging. I don't like to see it. I know who he reminds me of, even though I never knew Johnny that young.

"Some people shouldn't be parents," Eddie suddenly mutters beside me.

I turn my head and look at him. There is something in his eyes, something I have seen before, but that I recognize for the first time in his gaze. It makes me feel uneasy, despite the alcohol in my blood.

I look at the kid again, remembering how Johnny's dad used to beat him, his mom's cold stare every time she saw him. I guess my problems should be too small to even complain about. I've had a good life. Maybe two years of them sucked, but there are people that have it much worse. I should just suck it up, be pleased with what I have. So what if Soda moves out? I will still have Darry, won't I? And Soda... he wouldn't leave Tulsa. He wouldn't leave me.

The woman throws away her cigarette, stomps away over the sand and grabs the boy hard by his arm. His face crunches, but he doesn't make a sound. Already too used to it.

I feel a slight pain in my stomach. I watched it happen to Johnny, and I never did anything about it, and I won't help this kid either. Sometimes I wonder where Ms. West is, when it's really necessary for her to show up. But I can't make the call - I just can't.

I hear Eddie curse beside me. I think again how odd it is, how we don't really know each other. Why we never ask each other questions. It's not only me not asking him, he doesn't ask me either. It has never bothered me - I have wanted to keep things to myself. But for the first time I realize that maybe he has stuff to hide, too. And maybe it's the booze, the cotton filling my head, but suddenly it just feels important to tell him things, to get to know things back.

"My parents are dead," I mumble.

He glances at me. "Yeah, I know."

"How?"

"I don't remember. I guess someone told me. And it was always only your brothers comin' to the track meets."

I grimace as he mentions track. I will just forget about that.

"What about yours? I never have seen them at any meet either, " I say, trying to make it sound casual, but it's not. Not even close.

Like I tought he would, he stiffens beside me. He's quiet for so long I think he won't ever tell me, but then he sighs a little, letting his shoulders slump.

"I live with my aunt."

"She good?"

"Not really." He takes a deep breath, and I wait, but he doesn't tell me more.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading and great support! :)  
_

_I guess the next chapter won't be up until after christmas, so... Merry Christmas to you who celebrate :)_


	5. The Guilt

**Burning Inside**

**5. The Guilt**

Eddie lazily passes the bottle back to me. I take it without hesitation, tilt my head back and close my eyes hard when taking a sip. I'm still not used to how the bourbon burns down my throat as I swallow.

The longer we have been doing this, passing and sharing it between us, the easier it has become to not really care about anything. It's like I don't _have _to care, don't _have _to think - all that matters is the numbness it creates, the possibility to take a flight out of my own head - if only for a little while. There are still some things that disturb me; thoughts flaring up when I least expect them to; little voices trying to get my attention every time I grip the bottle's neck. I do my best to ignore them, though. What do they know? I need this.

I lower the bottle again, place it against my side as I peer around the park. I don't know how long we have been here, sitting on this bench or just walking around, but the sun has moved to the other side of the sky by now. Instead of the little kids the playground is invaded by bigger ones, just released from school, I guess. There are backpacks and jackets thrown everywhere on the grass, and even more dog walkers on the paths crossing between the trees. I liked it better before, when we were more alone. Now I feel almost exposed.

I move my thumb over the label on the bottle, scraping at it with my nail until its edges start to come off. We have almost finished it by now, and for some reason it makes me a bit sad. I realize I will need to go home once it's empty, when nothing is really keeping me here. No good thing will last forever, and I can't put my life on hold, no matter how much I want to. And this was just that - a little break from myself. I will be forced to go back and face reality again.

A man around his sixties, with a little white dog on a leash, glances at my hand as he walks by the bench. I try to hide the bottle with my arm, but I think it's too late - he already saw what it was. I feel how I redden by the judgement in his eyes as they meet mine, but decide to glare hard back at him - he doesn't know anything about me! He shouldn't judge me when he doesn't know a thing.

He looks away, dragging the dog with him as he quickly prolongs his steps.

"What time is it?" I ask lowly, slumping back as soon as the man is out of earshot. Eddie pushes up his sleeve to look at the watch around his wrist.

"Four soon."

It surprises me. "Shit. Already?"

I know I probably don't need to stress or anything - school has only been out for an hour, and no one should be home to worry about where I am yet - but still, it's fucking _Monday_ and I have been sitting drunk in a park instead of going to my classes. If Darry finds out about it...

"I have to go," I say, rising too quickly. I gain my balance by taking a few steps forward, and Eddie gets up on his feet too, standing himself in front of me, as if to stop me from leaving.

"What about school tomorrow?" he asks fast. "You goin'?"

I hesitate, and the voices take the opportunity to pick up in my head when I have my guard down. One of them wheezes why should I give a fuck about school, while another begs me to act better, to do what my brothers want. But the loudest voice is the one shouting at me how stupid I am, drinking booze on a weekday to be able to handle my emotions. In my neighborhood there's already too much of that - I have seen it plenty of times, people trying to drink away their problems, but I know I'm not one of them.

I'm _not_.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." I drag my hands through my hair, pulling at the straws until my scalp tingles. My bad conscience strikes hard on me now, forcing me down to earth and realization. "Shit, we shouldn't have done it."

"Ditchin'? Yeah, I know."

"Not that." I drop my hands again, knotting them into fists. "The drinkin' part. You shouldn't have bought that stuff." I nod at the bottle, still sitting on the bench. "It was a stupid thing to do."

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms as he stares at me."What?"

"It was stupid," I repeat, not sure how to express myself without blaming him. Or maybe I need to blame him.

"What was I supposed to do, then?" he wonders harshly.

"I don't know!"

"Should I just have left you there?"

"Yeah, maybe you should have." I pick up my backpack. "You didn't have to pour fuckin' booze in me at least."

"I just wanted to help you." He looks almost hurt. "You were out of it, man. You couldn't even _breathe _normally. Would you rather have me callin' a fuckin' ambulance or somethin'? Is that it?"

I feel how my cheeks start to burn. I hate it when people see me break down like that, it's embarrassing enough when it is my brothers. Even worse when someone tries to talk about it afterwards. I hastily turn away.

"It doesn't matter, Pony," I hear Eddie say behind me, calmer this time. Sometimes it's scary how much he seems to know me, even though we have talked so little. That just one day can bring us closer than a whole year did before.

"Yes it does," I mumble. "You don't understand."

How can he, if I don't understand it myself? Things should just be good, but all I do is drift further away from my brothers instead of the opposite. All I'm doing is getting myself into more trouble, destroying everything. Just like before.

But, I think frantically, I can't be _really _drunk since I feel a lot better than I did on Saturday. And if I think about it, it's _not _like I tried to drink away my problems, either - I just wanted to calm down.

"No, I know... sometimes my thoughts feel to big too, you know?" Eddie says carefully. "Like you said this mornin'. You just want to get away. From all the shit."

I hear the leaves rustle as he moves around me, and I open my eyes again. The ground is covered in a thick layer of orange, red and yellow, and I realize I never even noticed when summer turned to autumn. Strange. It wasn't that long ago we celebrated Soda's birthday.

But I don't want to think about Soda now. That was what brought this mess upon me in the first place.

"It just helps sometimes," Eddie continues, standing in my sight now. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. C'mon, it was just one time. One time doesn't even count."

I sigh, starting to search my jacket pockets for my pack of Kools, really needing them. I light a cigarette and give the pack to Eddie when I'm done.

"So you've done it before?" I ask, at the same time it crosses my mind that he obviously has. Or how else could he know it would help?

"Everyone drinks, Pony," he says solemnly, pulling out a stick for himself. "What does it matter if the reason is 'cause you feel bad and want to feel better? That's what people do at parties, right? They want to feel good, and no one says anything about that. People drink all the time and no one cares. It's normal. Even you drink at parties."

I don't say anything. It makes sense, but there is still something in it that bothers me.

"The only difference is that we skipped school," Eddie adds. "That's the bigger problem here."

"Why are you even so serious about school?" I want to know.

He shrugs a little, averting his gaze. I can tell there is something he doesn't want to say, so I don't push it.

"I just need good grades," he finally offers. "I need to go to college."

This time I'm the one who looks away, because I know his grades are not that good. They are not bad or anything, but they are not near mine, and now I have made him skip school. I feel awful.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"What for?"

I look back at him. "I made you ditch."

"You didn't make me do anythin', okay? I do what I want."

"But you didn't want to ditch."

"So? You didn't want to drink, right? Then I guess we're even."

"You didn't force me to drink."

He raises his eyebrows, and I laugh a little. "Seriously. You know you didn't. I'm just thinkin' about my brothers."

"Will they be mad?"

I shake my head, thinking that _mad _is probably not even the word for it if they find out.

"No. I sure won't tell them. They are at work now anyway."

xXx

There are no cars on the driveway, and when I step inside our house, it's quiet and empty, just as I hoped it would be. Darry is almost never home before six, but there are days he shows up earlier, too.

Standing just inside the door I breathe in my hands, trying to figure out if my breath smells of alcohol or not. I probably should have bought some chewing gum before heading home, but it's too late now. I can only hope it's not bad.

I don't flick on any lamps as I make my way to my room, dropping my backpack on the bed and kicking off my shoes. I actually like the dark - it feels like it helps me hide, and remove all the evidence that this hasn't been a normal day. But I have to do more. Deciding to take a shower, I drag my shirt over my head and step out of my jeans, carrying them to the laundry room to put them in the washing machine along with the other dirty clothes in the hamper. They don't really fill up the machine, but I hope Darry won't see that. He's kind of fastidious to not spend water and electricity on half empty washes.

In the bathroom, I turn the thermostat to cold - forcing myself to stand under the spray for a long time until I change it back to warmer water. I use soap but don't bother with the shampoo, and when I'm done, I brush my teeth without looking into the mirror. Only once I dare myself to meet my own eyes, and I hate the guilt I see in them. The judgement, just the same as the man from the park. But, I realize, not so much because I ditched and drank, but for all the lies I'm going to tell tonight, all the lies I'm going to speak in the future and spoke in the past.

Maybe it never was the state that took me away from my family - maybe it was me all along. I shudder. I did this to myself - I can't blame anyone but myself if I'm drifting away. It's all the lies I'm telling, but I know I can never tell them the truth about how I feel. Even if I would want to. But I don't.

Back in my room again, I smoke a cigarette sitting on my bed, not even bothering to open up the window. Another thing for Darry to scold me for if he knew - smoking inside. But he won't know anything. Not if I'm careful.

xXx

The time is half past five and I know I have to straighten up. I open my window, hoping the smoke and smell will find their way out. I move from room to room, lightening up all the lamps. I tidy up our living room after the weekend, moving things to their right places, dusting the shelves with my sleeve. I even take out the trash and vacuum the floors.

Darry steps inside our house an hour later, just as dinner is almost ready. He removes his jacket while eyeing the living room, smiling at the now clean coffee table. I stand slouching in the doorway of the kitchen, trying to look more alert, hoping the redness of my eyes has disappeared by now. I feel pretty sober, though. Luckily.

"You cleaned up?" Darry asks as he discovers me, fumbling for the hook on the wall.

I push my hands deeper down into my pockets. "Yeah."

He smiles bigger. "That's good. I think I'm too tired for that tonight."

"Busy at work?" I move away as he steps past me in to the kitchen and up to the boiling pots, lifting the lids to see what's in them.

"The usual. How was school?"

"Um... it was good. The usual." I'm glad he doesn't look at me, even though I know I'm too good at lying.

"Homework?"

"No."

"No homework at all?"

"Not any that is due until tomorrow. Shit, Darry, can't I have just one day without you naggin' at me?" I clamp my mouth shut when he turns around, looking at me strangely.

"I was just asking, Pony," he says slowly.

I drag out a chair and sit down, putting my elbows on the table to lean my head in my hands. "Sorry," I mumble. "You ain't naggin'."

"You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine."

I watch him set the table since I forgot to do it. I think how odd it is that he just lets things go sometimes, because since our talk about school, he has been this weird. Like he thinks he has to be careful with me.

I place my arms on the table, and when I look down, I see the purple scar I have inside my left forearm since I yanked the IV out. My crazy-mark. I feel my cheeks grow hot while thinking about that. Maybe I am crazy; I don't react normally to things anymore. Maybe I don't even know what normal is.

I hastily look up. Darry stands by the stove again, his back turned to me. Maybe he's trying to protect me from something. It must be something when he's acting like this, not yelling our shouting or anything. Maybe since our fight he thinks I will lose it again? Like I did at the day of Joey's trial.

Or maybe it's about Soda.

I bite my lip and look out through the window instead. But Soda said I was the only one who knew about this girl he has met. I know I should feel special, being the first to be told, but right now I wish he had shut up about it. He could have shut up about it forever. He could have kept hiding her, just pretending that he's working longer hours. He didn't have to change everything like this, by telling me.

As we eat, I keep glancing at Darry while forcing the food down. I was hungry, but now I'm not - I just feel nauseous. I'm thinking of telling him that I'm sick, so I can leave the table and just crawl down under my blankets, but then I know he will tell me to stay home tomorrow, and I know I can't do that. I can't push it with my teachers too much, or I will get in trouble. I have been gone two full days now, and someone will start to notice if I add a third.

An image of Andrew and Mr. James and the school in Muskogee flashes through my mind, and I have to blink to force it away. Ditching back then was the reason Ms. West pulled me out of that foster home, but she can't pull me out from my home again, can she? She's not even our social worker anymore. We have another one, whose name I always seem to forget. She only shows up here now and then, always scheduled, no surprises.

But it doesn't matter what the state does, I know someday we all won't be living here together anymore anyway, and it hurts. I missed two years I never will get back, and now we are on countdown. I just know we are.

"Darry?" I mumble.

"Yeah?"

I put my fork down, not able to eat anymore. "What do you think will happen to us?"

He frowns slightly, chewing on a piece of bread. "What do you mean?" he asks as soon as he has swallowed.

I feel warm all of sudden, like I have fever or something.

"In the future." I have to force the words out, but at the same time, they are forcing me to speak them. Maybe it's the bourbon I had - I know how Two-Bit always talks even more when he's been drinking. "What will we do?"

"Well, I still hope you're going to college, Pony." Darry talks slowly, eyeing me. Yeah, he still remembers our talk. My hand twitches some, and I clench it fast.

"I meant you and Soda more," I say, even though I didn't. I meant us all, I just don't want to talk about school.

"Me and Soda?"

"Yeah. Will you just... bum around in the house all your life? Stay here? Like... live here?"

Darry thinks for a while. "I don't know. But I won't sell it, if that's what you mean. I wouldn't do that."

"No, that wasn't it." I try to think what I really need to say. "We'll all have our own lives, but... how long will we stay together for?"

"We'll still be brothers, Pony."

"I know that. But when we're all grown ups," I persist. "I'm eighteen next year."

"I'm aware of that." He smiles, but my mouth is so dry I can't respond to it. I reach for my water-glass and down its contents in one long drag. I know I should stop this conversation, but there are things I suddenly feel an urge to ask, even with how scared I am for his answers.

"Will you get married?" I ask fast, putting down the glass again.

"Married?" He looks surprised, almost embarrassed. "You know I don't have a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"What is this, twenty questions? Geez, Pony."

"No, I'm serious."

Darry puts his cutlery down too. "I haven't really had the time to date," he says then, not really looking at me. "After Mom and Dad... and then it was you gone. Everything was about work and money and getting you home again."

I don't remind him that I've been home for more than a year. I guess that doesn't matter - he still has to pay the monthly bill to our lawyer.

"But do you want to meet someone?"

"If it's the right person."

"So when I'm off to college, you -" I interrupt myself, not even wanting to think about me going away, but Darry sighs and chuckles some, as if letting some of the tension go.

"Pony, I don't know. Let's just wait and see. I doubt there will be any changes until you and Soda can stand on your own feet."

"But Soda has a job. You think he wants to move out?"

I could have bitten my tongue off. I didn't meant to ask that. I stare down at my lap, not able to meet Darry's gaze.

"No, I don't... has he said something to you?"

"He's twenty," I mumble. "Wouldn't he want that?" I feel how my heart starts to pick up its speed. Like always. I wish I had some bourbon in my glass right now, or Eddie's bottle in my hand, and if I had, I would have downed it just as I did with the water. To make me feel numb again. Shit. It was too good of a feeling.

"He hasn't said anything about it to me. Pony, you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." I force my gaze up. "I'm just thinkin'."

"You afraid I will be alone with both you and Soda gone?" Darry wonders, getting it all wrong. But I don't correct him. "Don't worry about that, Ponyboy. I promise I'll manage." He chuckles again and stands up, starting to collect the dirty dishes. His hand hesitates a bit over my plate. "You don't want more?"

I shake my head, push the plate closer to him, and he picks it up without a word.

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait - I blame it on Christmas and New Years Eve and the site the last 2 days.  
_

_Also sorry for some fact mistakes - I think they only went 3 years in High school at Will Rogers at that time, but I have 4 in my stories. I hope you don't mind, I didn't figure that out until just recently._

_Thank you so much for reading! :)  
_


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